The Vault
by NOTagentsofnothing420
Summary: After the fall of SHEILD, a former engineering specialist is trying to get by. She's still piecing together the truth about Alexander Pierce and HYDRA, haunted by her memories. Memories of a man with a incredible metal arm, reignited by a spontaneous trip to the Smithsonian. **TWS** BUCKY/OC RATED M :D
1. Chapter 1

_**PROLOGUE**_

I was exhausted as I walked home, the chill in the Washington DC air reminding me more of New York than Russia as my heels tapped along the pavement. I could barely remember it now, the country where I was born. Really, the only thing that stuck was the way I could break into perfect Russian, but that was my mother's objective when my brother, Nikoliev, and I were little. When she brought us to America, she used to only allow Russian in the house. I was pretty young, only eight when we first got to Brooklyn, but my older brother taught me everything I needed to know to survive. I smiled to myself, thinking about when I was a teenager, the girls at my high school making fun of me for being smart, of all things. Seriously, they could have chosen anything else and done more damage, like how skinny I was, or how short I was, or how I had the curves of a twenty-five year old at seventeen, but _nooooo_. And really, it was just cause that slut Jenny Meyer thought that her boyfriend was trying to hook up with me. I could see it now, the look of sheer terror on that bitch's eyes when I told her to go fuck herself in my mother's infamous 'You've done it now, Anastasia' voice, when I went off on her for thinking, and I quote, 'that just because it seems impossible for a girl to help a guy with his mechanical engineering project, _doesn't_ mean you get to be a _complete bitch_ the whole time!'. As I turned the corner, only two blocks from my apartment now, I laughed a little to myself and listened to my shoes tapping away as I walked, the wind whipping my hair off my shoulders.

I passed by the Smithsonian, pulling the sleeves of my thick coat down on my hands further, remembering last week, when I finally went to the Captain America exhibit. But six months after the Triskelion was destroyed, along with my career with SHEILD as a mechanical specialist, why was I dreaming about him now? I remember the way his deep blue eyes burned into mine, the way I tried to ignore how _goddamn gorgeous_ he was as Mr. Pierce ordered me to repair his metal arm. That _incredible_ metal arm. I scolded myself, mentally face palming as I shook the memory of the man in the bank vault away, trying to focus on the museum last week. I was too excited that day; the guy at the bar hiring me on the spot after my first interview, my bracelet had come back from the jeweler completely repaired, and I was ecstatic. I glanced down at my right wrist, the distinct silver metal shining in the light from the street light, my name engraved on the inside. My mother gave it to me, a month or so maybe before…

I froze, stopping just as I turned the corner of my block, the steps of my apartment building in sight as I felt it. I felt someone's stare burning into me, and despite the months of rigorous SHIELD training I had a few years ago, I crumbled under the fear. "Who's there?!" I called out, whipping around to see behind me as I stumbled a little in my heels, the cracked sidewalk under the thick heel of my ankle boots. I caught myself, brushing my long blonde hair from my eyes as I looked around. Seeing no one, and heels be damned, I held my skirt down with one hand and ran to my apartment building. I stopped at the bottom step, looking down for a second to fish my keys from my purse. As soon as my fingers felt the cold metal of my key ring, there was a sharp pain in my temple, and I could feel my knees buckle before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

_****_

SIX MONTHS EARLIER…

It was late when my phone rang, and as I reached for it on the coffee table, I sat up from where I slept on my couch. Damn, I must have passed out after work. I looked at my caller ID, frowning when I saw who was calling. "Mr. Pierce," I answered, "It's almost three in the morning." I sighed when he didn't say anything, before I said quietly, "Sorry, Sir," putting on my innocent charm as I asked, "Is there something you need?" _"Yes, Ms. Solokov," _he said in his usual tone, pissing me off even more, _"A weapon was…damaged in combat. Your needed as soon as possible." _I sighed, rubbing my face as I said, "Send me the address, I'll be there in the hour." Pierce hung up before I did, and I huffed as I trudged from the living room , through my bedroom, and into my closet. "Seriously," I growled, pulling some comfy clothes from the racks, "He must think he's God or something." I quickly pulled my office clothes off from earlier, my daily demands at SHIELD consisting more of desk work than being in the garage or in the lab, and hurried to change into the clean black tank top and dark blue soccer sweatpants I'd picked out in my rush. I grabbed my sneakers before heading out of my room, shutting the lights off as I went. I sat on the couch and my phone buzzed on the table in front of me as i hurried to pull them on. I raised an eyebrow as i read the message from Mr. Pierce, my GPS directing me to an abandoned bank about ten miles away. The fuck? I brushed it off, telling myself to follow orders without question. That was my training, my instinct, and as I grabbed my purse and my duffel bag full of tools, I ignored the ominous feeling gripping my stomach and reluctantly headed for the door. 

* * *

The building was cold as the guards led me in, and as I followed them down countless corridors and staircases, I quickly decided I needed the white lab coat they'd given me at the door. Struggling to put it on, I followed the pack of heavily armed guards, not recognizing any of them from my afternoons at the Triskelion, and as we reached small, steel door, the biggest one turned to me, holding out a white surgical mask as he said, "You're gonna need to put this on, Miss." Taking it from his huge hand, I smiled at his courtesy, putting it quickly before another opened the door. At least he was polite, most of the guys around Alexander Pierce when I get called in (on occasion) were real jerks, he even offered to carry my tool bag for me when I'd arrived. After securing my white paper mask over my lips, without smudging my bright red lipstick from earlier, I signaled that I was ready with a nod, and quickly, the door opened.  
After being motioned inside, I kept my eyes glued to the concrete floor, feeling more than just Pierce's eyes on me as he said, "Agent Solokov, how is life on the twenty-third floor treating you?" in his disgusting, sing-song voice. Thank God for this paper mask because it was effectively hiding my scowl as I nodded and said quietly, "Director Pierce." The guard tapped my shoulder, aw how nice of him, making me look up as he handed me my tool bag, and I smiled silently behind my mask. "Go," Pierce said coldly to the guy handing me my bag, queuing me to turn to him, finally seeing that arrogant smirk I'd come to despise in the past few months as he stepped to the side.

Alexander Pierce sent for me to see him two months ago, giving me blueprints of a cybernetic structure and asking me to find the flaws, make improvements. Id been so hungry for a chance to be back in the shop, in a lab, seriously anywhere that I could weld something together, and this was the perfect assignment. Office work had me going insane for weeks and I was so excited when I saw the project I was being given. And by a member of the World Security Council, by The Director Pierce? I couldn't pass that up, who would?

Still, after almost six weeks of analyzing the blueprint for a cybernetic arm prosthesis (and with no improvements), I could never have been prepared for what I saw behind him.

I was standing in a bank vault, the vintage gold safety deposit boxes lining the walls giving me some idea where we were, but what really drew my attention was_ him_. The machine he sat in was obviously designed for him, the way his masculine body fit perfectly into it as he sat back. His hair was dark brown, uncut as it fell just above his shoulders, and when my eyes met his, the blank stare his stormy dark blue eyes tore my heart into pieces. I barely noticed his left arm, made completely of metal, over the questions racing in my head. _What are they doing to him? What is this machine? Why does he look so lost?_

Almost instantly, Alexander Pierce's voice snapped me out of my head, his demand sparking more rage than usual as he ordered coldly, "His arm is damaged. Fix it."

I could hear the vault door opening and closing behind me, leaving me alone (along with the pack of guards scattered around the room) in the vault with _him_. He was shirtless, and I fought myself as I slowly walked over, the muscles of his torso making me swoon a little, before my eyes got even wider, landing on the scarring on his shoulder where the metal plating of his left arm fused to his skin. He never looked at me as I got closer, trembling as I knelt beside him, and after digging around in my bag for the right tool, I looked up at him.  
Carefully, I gently placed my hand on his metal one, the metal of my bracelet making a tiny tinking noise as it bumped the vibranium plating, and I whispered so quiet even I barely heard it as I asked in perfect Russian, "What are they doing to you, Love?", while my other hand unknowingly traced the red star imprinted on his shoulder. Maybe he was too lost in his thoughts to hear me, maybe I was too quiet, or maybe he just didn't know Russian, but whatever the reason, he didn't respond, and I sighed, taking my hand from his to pull my mask down over my lipstick, and redirecting my focus to his arm, to following orders without question. As I started welding his arm, focusing on the vibranium structure and in english this time, I said quietly, "My name is Anastasia." He was silent as I finished fixing his muscular metal arm, and as I stood from where I'd been kneeling next to him, the empty stare he held on the wall finally broke, and I held my breath as he looked up to me, those beautiful blue eyes bringing a smile to my lips, despite being so filled with sorrow and confusion.  
But as I brushed a few strands of his long dark brown hair from his face a moment later, one of the not so nice guards dotted throughout the room was at my side in an instant, grabbing a fist full of my hair, making the thick black clip I had most of it pinned back in fall to the floor as I yelped, and he yelled something I couldn't comprehend over the pain at the back of my head. My eyes were shut tight, until he finally let go of my hair and I dropped to the floor, opening them just in time to see the man with the metal arm kick the guard who manhandled me clear across the room. I heard others yell for Pierce, along with all the other guards drawing their weapons on me and the man in the chair beside me, still in pain from that guy's death grip on my hair, and in shock from the guy (who _literally_ looked at me _once_) nearly killing said guy for doing it. My blonde hair was covering my eyes, and most of my face, as I listened to Pierce walk back into the vault with more guards, shouting as he addressed the man in the machine and ordered in a strangely robotic manner, "Mission Report." When he had to repeat himself, and even then the soldier sitting broken before him didn't respond, his gaze fixed back on the vault wall, Pierce slapped him right across the face, obviously as hard as he could, and I jumped. He must have noticed, because almost instantly, huge hands were shoving me out of the vault by the shoulders.  
I didn't hesitate, keeping my eyes on the floor as I complied, hearing the distinct sound of the vault door closing behind us. Before we turned the corner of the long hallway, I froze dead in my tracks at the scream echoing through the halls. Tears clouded my eyes as I knew exactly who it came from, and the sad fact that there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it. The agonizing scream of the man with the metal arm rang in my ears, making my crying harder as I reluctantly continued out with the guards, and my stomach churned when it finally stopped. Still, the scream replayed over and over in my head, louder than the deafening silence of the corridors and stairwells, and I sniffled back more tears as I murmured to myself in Russian, "I'm so sorry," my mind racing of all the things they could be doing to torture _him_ back in that vault.


	3. Chapter 3

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A/N: the reason this is all in italics is because it's a dream. Just go with it. :)) **It'll make sense with what's coming next.  
****Thank you to my two reviewers! IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS ABOUT HOW I SHOULD CONTINUE THIS STORY PLEASE LET ME KNOW! I LOVE THE FEEDBACK! :D**

**-*J*-**

* * *

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I was a nervous wreck as I weaved through people in the crowded Smithsonian, trying to smile at the few who met my gaze every time I looked up at the memorabilia and photos covering the walls of the Captain America exhibit.  
_It had been almost six months since I survived the fall of the Triskelion, and still, I was nervous about the littlest things. Everything I'd learned in my SHIELD training was in the wind, my memory was spotted from the blow I took from a falling piece of debris on the head, and the anxiety I'd overcome as a kid was back full swing, despite the months of physical and mental therapy I'd completed as I recovered. I couldn't bear being anywhere crowded, and there was no way in hell I was going above the fourth floor of any building, even my own._

_But, I made the detour into the museum on my walk home and paid the ridiculous admission price, having a really good day for the first time in what felt like forever. I stared up at the uniforms of the Howling Commandos, smiling at the empty spot where Captain Rogers must have 'borrowed' his suit from before coming to the Triskelion, thinking about how lucky it was that on the same day my bracelet came back from Stark Industries (for repairs to the vibranium I couldn't do myself, losing most of my tools in the collapsed building) , I get hired at the first place I applied for, living off my savings since finishing rehab last month.  
__I smiled brightly down at my bracelet, the recess lighting of the exhibit reflecting off of the silver metal, the vibranium twisted together like a metal vine, listening to Gary Sinise narrate the life of Steve Rogers as I meandered through the mass of people, reading plaques and smiling as I went, I froze when my eyes fell on a ghost._

_I could feel my face fall as I saw his, the same man from the vault, haunting my dreams every night for months. Tears welled in my eyes as I rudely pushed past the few people between myself and the etched glass memorial, the pieces of my heart I'd been managing to hold together for almost six months shattering as passed the last bystander in a baseball cap, who probably thought I was crazy. I stood as close to the dimly lit memorial as I could, the tears streaming down my eyes as I held in my sobs, wiping my tears to try to read the paragraphs etched in the glass through the blur.  
__It was him, the guy I'd left in the vault, there was no denying it, and as I watched the black and white film of him smiling and laughing with Captain Rogers, what control I had over myself went out the window. I bawled into my hands, forgetting about the makeup Id put on to go look for jobs earlier, and before I broke down any further, I turned from the memorial to haul ass out of there. A blood-curdling scream echoed in my mind, making my sobs louder as I absolutely lost it, shoulder checking the guy in the baseball cap and kept going, not looking back as I managed to shout a weak, "Sorry!" through my cries._

_  
When I finally got outside, I didn't stop, running the two blocks to my apartment building as I sobbed, remembering the way he looked up at me with his broken dark blue eyes, the way the same tortured eyes brightened as he smiled at Captain Rogers on the old film, knowing he must've broke hundreds of heart with a smile like that, his agonizing scream as it bounced of the walls of the hallway I was being led down, and as I finally reached my building, I could almost feel the guard's tight grip on my hair again. The doorman opened the door as I rushed up the steps, running to the elevator before he could say anything and catching it as the door closed. I sniffled back tears as the elevator rose to my floor, darting out as soon as the doors slid open and hurrying down to my apartment door, the last door on the fourth floor, and after quickly unlocking it and slamming it behind me, I tossed my purse on the coffee table and flopped onto the couch, letting it all out as I cried hard, burying my face into the closest throw pillow. His eyes were the only thing I could see when I closed my eyes, and in frustration, I threw the small dark blue throw pillow across the room as I screamed through the tears, "WHY DID I EVER GO IN THE STUPID FUCKING VAULT?!" _


End file.
